G'Day To Die Part 11

"Would you like me to git a picture of you in front of the mine?" Heath asked, as we walked toward the entrance.

"How 'bout I get a picture of you? I bet you're a lot more photogenic than I am. I can use it in the newsletter I write for our travel club. You'll add a dash of local color." Not to mention a ton of s.e.x appeal. I'd ent.i.tle it, The Wonder Down Under. The Wonder Down Under.

We handed in our tickets, then lagged behind so I could set up my shot. "Right about there is good," I said, as Heath leaned his shoulder against a vertical support beam.

"Don't even think of taking a picture without me in it," Lola cooed as she appeared out of nowhere and muckled onto his arm. She tousled her hair and pressed her cheek against his. "We're riddy. Shoot."

Oh, this was nice. I had a perfect shot highlighting half of Heath's face and all of Lola's silicone-enhanced chest, but I'd be d.a.m.ned if I'd allow her to ruin my idea. I clicked the shutter. "Great shot!" I'd ent.i.tle it, Australian Flotation Devices. Australian Flotation Devices.

Lola ended the session by cradling Heath's face and kissing him like a Power Vac intent on sucking the lips off his face. "C'mon, you luscious hunk of man," she drawled, as she pulled him into the tunnel. "I'd feel terrible if you missed anything because of me."

He stumbled after her, managing a wild gesture in my direction before being consumed by darkness. I glanced around the deserted grounds, looking from cliff top to forest, creeped out by the sudden quiet and feeling terribly exposed. Hearing a twig snap, I spun around, wondering if Jake could be out there someplace, spying on us.

For Lola's sake, I hoped not.

s.h.i.+fting the power switch on my camera to off, I hurried into the mine.

Chapter 9.

"Don't surprise me they can't find them plants," Nana reasoned late that night. "Your grampa could never find nothin' neither. Menfolk are like that, dear. I think their ho-hos cause some kinda chronic visual impairment."

Nana, Tilly, and I were gathered around a table in the hotel lounge, winding down after our big evening of Broadway entertainment at the Princess Theater. While Etienne and Duncan ordered drinks at the bar, I relayed the information I'd scavenged throughout the day.

"Is the university group going to continue searching?" Tilly asked.

I shrugged. "Conrad insisted they not give up, but I'm not sure the plant is even there anymore. I have a sneaking suspicion Diana Squires might be carrying it in her backpack."

"No kiddin'?"

I regarded the other tour guests who'd stopped off for a nightcap. "Either that, or Roger Piccolo may have done something to camouflage it temporarily, with the intention of going back for it during his conference. He has a number plotted on his GPS unit that could very well be Nana's angiosperms."

Nana sucked thoughtfully on her dentures. "So you think one a them followed the Bellows woman outside, knocked her off without no one seein', made it look like natural causes, grabbed my Polaroids, found the plant, and either stuffed it into a backpack or sent a beam into outer s.p.a.ce that'd mark it for future reference?"

Why did my theories always sound more credible before someone repeated them out loud?

Nana gave a little nod. "I like it."

"You do?"

"It's completely implausible," said Tilly. "Your time line is a farce. You flout the laws of nature and physics. Your explanation smacks of wizardry and lone gunman theories." She nodded her approval. "I like it, too. Sounds like something straight out of the Warren Commission."

"So how we gonna nab 'em?" asked Nana.

I motioned them to huddle closer. "First thing we need to do is find out what's in Diana's backpack."

"Airport security should be able to help with that tomorrow," said Tilly. "If the X-ray machine indicates she's carrying a plant, they'll definitely want to take a look. The Australian government is very strict about what they allow pa.s.sengers to transport across state lines."

"Tilly and me'll get in line with her so's we can keep an eye on what's goin' down."

"Good. One of you in front of her and one of you behind. And I'll go through security ahead of you so I can corner her if she gets pulled aside. I'll be dying to hear her explanation of how a hundred-million- year-old plant got into her backpack."

Nana raised her chubby little forefinger. "Emily, dear, which part a them angiosperms is s'posed to be the good part? The leaves, the root, or the stem?"

"Uhhh-Beats me." I looked to Tilly for a.s.sistance. "Do you know?"

"It might be all three. There's no way of telling until they get it into the laboratory for testing."

"If the plant dies, can them folks in the laboratory still run tests on it?"

"Uhhh-" I looked to Tilly again.

"Not being a botanist, I'm not sure how to answer that, Marion, but I would a.s.sume that the scientists at Infinity would prefer the plant be alive."

"That's what I figured. What I can't figure is, how she plans on keepin' the thing alive for the next two weeks if it's all squushed up in her backpack. The leaves are gonna crumble like dried oregano." Nana shrugged. "Maybe she can use 'em to make hundred-million-year-old spaghetti sauce."

"If I could get my hands on Roger Piccolo's GPS, would either of you know how to use it?" I asked.

"Your father would know how to use it, dear. He's got one on his harvester, between the mini-refrigerator and the portable cappuccino maker."

Personal GPS units hadn't caught on in Iowa, mostly because Iowans never get lost. We're all born with internal compa.s.ses in our brains that make street signs, road maps, and AAA Trip Tiks completely unnecessary. It's the neatest perk of hailing from a landlocked, tornado-ridden state in the middle of nowhere.

Well, that, and the Iowa chops.

"My apologies for the delay with your drinks, ladies. One s.h.i.+rley Temple with extra cherries"-Etienne set a gla.s.s down in front of Nana-"and one Professor and Mary Ann." He placed the other highball in front of Tilly, who clasped her hands with girlish pleasure.

"What a delightful surprise, Inspector Miceli. I had no idea there was a c.o.c.ktail named for us stodgy old academics. I'm honored."

"It's just Etienne, Ms. Hovick. My police inspector days are behind me." He kissed the crown of my head and trailed his thumb across my cheek. "Be right back with the rest of the order."

"What'd he mean about his police inspector days bein' behind him?" Nana asked, plucking a cherry off its skewer and popping it into her mouth.

"Did I forget to mention the latest? Etienne took it upon himself to retire from the police force. They gave him a gold watch and everything."

Tilly swished her c.o.c.ktail around in her mouth like a professional wine taster. "This is quite tasty. I believe I detect apricot brandy, vodka, and a hint of lime. Has he told you what he plans to do with himself for the rest of his life? He's rather young to be sitting around, gathering moss on his north side."

"He can do anything he wants," Nana piped up. "He's loaded."

I lasered a look at her. "About that-You were giving him financial advice on the sly and never bothered to tell me?"

"Do I look like a snitch?"

"No, but-Joblessness? Lavish wealth? This is a lot to have dropped on me all at once."

Nana sighed. "That was probably your grampa's last thought, too, when the roof a that ice shanty come cras.h.i.+n' down on him like it done." She patted my hand. "It's not so bad, dear. Trust your young man. He knows what he's doin'."

"Here you go, pretty." Duncan slid a shot gla.s.s onto the table then, with a pint of Guinness in hand, sat down beside me. "Try that out for size." It was white and frothy, with a consistency like melted Marshmallow Fluff.

"What is it?" I gave it a sniff.

"Looks like Kaopectate," said Nana.

I tongued some froth into my mouth.

"No, no, no," Duncan said, laughing. "Don't sip it. It's a shooter. You're supposed to knock it back in a single slug."

"Like chugalugging? I've never been good at that. Everything always comes back out through my nose."

"I'll try it," Nana volunteered. With Duncan's blessing, she knocked it back in one swallow.

"Well?" I asked.

She broke out in a giddy smile. "Not bad. It's got a better kick than Kaopectate."

"Try this, bella bella." Etienne placed a champagne flute before me. "It's much more your style. Meant to be sipped rather than chugalugged." He exchanged a defiant look with Duncan before circling the table to an empty chair.

I held the gla.s.s up to the light. Bubbles effervesced to the surface like a galaxy of shooting stars. "Champagne. Yum. What else is in it?"

"Peach brandy and orange juice."

"It's an AARP c.o.c.ktail," Duncan teased. "Did Miceli tell you he's on their mailing list now that he's turned in his badge?"

"b.u.t.tati in un mare pieno di merda come te," Etienne said with quiet restraint.

"Vaffanculo," Duncan returned calmly. Duncan returned calmly.

I looked from one to the other. "I hate hate it when you guys do that! Come on, what did you just say?" it when you guys do that! Come on, what did you just say?"

"Drink up what's in front of you, darling. There's more coming."

"I propose a toast," said Duncan, lifting his Guinness. "A little Irish blessing: 'There are good s.h.i.+ps, and there are wood s.h.i.+ps, the s.h.i.+ps that sail the sea, but the best s.h.i.+ps are friends.h.i.+ps, and may they always be.'"

Aw, that was so sweet. We clinked gla.s.ses all around, and I took a sip of my champagne. I licked my lips, savoring the taste. "Wow, this is the best stuff I've ever drunk out of a champagne flute. The peach and orange really pop." I took another sip. "What's it called?"

Etienne's lips slid into a slow, sensuous smile. "Sweet Surrender."

Duncan rolled his eyes. Mumbling something under his breath, he took a swig of his stout.

I toasted Etienne. "An exquisite choice."

"Exquisite choices are my specialty," he said, drilling me with a look that made my tummy tingle.

Duncan drained his mug and thumped it onto the table. "I'm ready for another round. Anyone care to join me?"

Etienne motioned toward the bar. "It's on its way."

"By the by," I said with a dramatic flourish, "you'll be happy to know that I talked to Guy today and convinced him to stop monopolizing the two of you, so you're officially off the hook and free to spend your time as you please." I smiled impishly. "Thank you very much; it was nothing."

Both men whipped Palm Pilots out of their jacket pockets. "I have dibs sitting beside her on the plane tomorrow," Duncan said, moving his stylus over the display screen.

"No can do." Etienne consulted his own screen. "I have that marked in stone. See?" He flashed it at Duncan. "You can sit beside her on the bus ride from the airport to Adelaide."

"A ten-minute ride? I don't think so. I want her for the plane ride and miscellaneous free time tomorrow afternoon. You can borrow her for dinner, then the three of us can do something afterward."

"I have plans for her tomorrow evening after dinner, and no offense, old bean, but they don't include you."

Duncan smiled stiffly. "If you get her for after-dinner activities tomorrow, I get her for the entire day in the Barossa Valley, plus plus dinner alone with her and any postdinner intrigue we care to engage in." dinner alone with her and any postdinner intrigue we care to engage in."

"Interesting take on equal time," Etienne said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Works for me, old bean old bean."

"Do I look entirely obtuse to you?"

"How honest do you want me to be?"

"Bischero," rasped Etienne. rasped Etienne.

"Farab.u.t.to," Duncan snapped back. Duncan snapped back.

Oh, yeah. Guy's not monopolizing them anymore was working out really really well. I glanced around the bar. Where was he? Maybe I could convince him I'd only been kidding. well. I glanced around the bar. Where was he? Maybe I could convince him I'd only been kidding.

"Evenin'." A barmaid carrying a tray of colorful mixed drinks arrived at our table. "Who gets the s.h.i.+rley Temple with extra cherries?"

Nana raised her hand.

"The Professor and Mary Ann?"

"I'll take it," said Tilly."

"Dry martini with a twist?"

"That would be me," said Etienne.

She held up a highball gla.s.s whose contents resembled a Pepto-Bismol shake. "Strawberry Kiss?"

Etienne nodded toward me. "The young lady."

She plucked the final gla.s.s off the tray. "Old b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"Here," said Etienne, slapping the table in front of Duncan.

Duncan's mouth inched into a crooked grin. "Maleducato," he said, bowing his head politely. he said, bowing his head politely.